Come Watch The Sunrise!

Why is the alarm clock
so loud this morning?

And why do sneakers squeak
so loudly on the pavement,
pondering the persecution of souls
in far-fetched fantasies,
distantly wondering
how to believe in a god
who believes in Damnation.

And who could believe
what was witnessed today?

Spiritual fitness is hard to come by
when the remains of ragged
rugged memories,
like handcuffs that tighten with time's grip,
threaten to pull the Dreamer
into the Pits of Hell.

It's hard to be a dreamer
when the alarm clock is buzzing
so loudly this morning,
when the pools of darkness
collect silently together
and the heaviness falls on the eyes
and the eyes see through the World;
where exhilaration at the prospect
of impossibility
crashes into clouds and kings and kangaroos
who tell tall tales about adventure:
love Life
and God.

The clouds gather,
a storm brews
hot tea on a winter morning;
waiting to overwhelm the world
with the whistle of boiling, downpouring water:
a whistle that cannot be perceived
over the persistent nagging noise
of an impatient alarm clock.